


Pardulas

by Babbit



Series: Cooking with RadioDust [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Cooking, Cute, Food, Lullabies, M/M, Singing, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27738745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babbit/pseuds/Babbit
Summary: This is my first story :)!!Alastor eavesdrops while Angel Dust cooks some traditional Pardulas.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Cooking with RadioDust [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029759
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	Pardulas

**Author's Note:**

> !!! This is my first story :)!

“Angel!”

Alastor walked through the hotels’ lobby, passing the bar and heading towards the kitchen. Angel Dust had to be found and taken to Charlie, and the radio demon had been chosen for the _pénible_ task. He walked gracefully into the kitchen, about to call for Angel once more, but he was called to pause by the sight in front of him.

Angel Dust was cooking. Not unusual for him, but something about this took Alastor by surprise. His hair was pulled into a bow, with a few strands of it sticking out and framing his face. He had on a long sweater that stopped at his shoulders, and some simple socks instead of his normal high heels. He hummed in content, some sort of old lullaby, and bent down rather modestly to pull a tray out of the oven.

The soft way Angel seemed to just about float around the kitchen took Alastor in, his movements gentle as he handled the _Pardulas_ , taking them off the baking tray and putting them carefully onto a plate. He positioned them the way he wanted and nodded to himself, before reaching for the cabinets. Angel barely looked as his hands plucked out Charlie's ‘Special Occasion Sprinkles’ and the sugar.

He looked at it and opened the bag, checking the sugar and deciding it was to his standards. He reached up and grabbed a bowl from the kitchen rack, and bent down gently to find a sifter. Alastor was old fashioned, sure, but even he knew the easiest way to make powdered sugar was with a blender. It was interesting that Angel Dust was going with an old sifter instead of an easier method. 

Angel found the sifter he was looking for and set it onto the counter with the bowl and sugar. He looked around for a second bowl, grunting when he couldn’t find one among the hotel’s limited kitchenware. He placed his second set of hands on his hips and turned to the sink, seemingly still unaware of Alastor’s presence. 

He washed out a dish with practiced ease, something that shouldn’t be a talent here but they’d all seen Charlie fumble around the kitchen with her limited set of kitchen skills. Angel finished quickly, inspecting the bowl seriously before nodding again and drying the inside with a soft pink hand towel.

He turned back to the sugar and bowls, setting this newly cleaned one beside the other and holding the sifter above it. His bottom right hand grabbed the sugar and put it into the sifter with a few careful shakes. He started up his lullaby again, this time accompanying it with softly sung italian words. 

_“Ninna nanna, ninna oh,”_ he sifted the sugar, _“questo bimbo a chi lo do?”_

Alastor felt his body relax in a way it hadn’t for a very long time. He leaned against the doorframe, letting his eyes fall half-lidded in his content. Something about this felt so familiar, and while Angel sang he tried to find what it was in his brain. The answer was just there, tittering on the edge of his mind.

_“Lo darò alla Befana,”_ Angel sifted through the sugar again, dumping the previous sift back into the sifter. _“Che lo tiene una settimana, Lo darò all’Uomo Nero, N Che lo tiene un anno intero…”_

Alastor sighed gently, the song comforting him despite the language barrier. If only he could understand what Angel was singing for him. He felt his tail swish from side to side gently, but made no move to correct the expression of happiness. 

“ _Lo darò all’Uomo Bianco_ ,” Angel’s singing got unknowingly louder, filling the kitchen with the old lullaby. “ _Che le tiene finché è stanco._.”

He finished sifting the sugar, moving back over to the plate of _Pardula_ . He uncorked the sprinkles, his other hand reaching for a utensil that had been on the plate the whole time. He used the basting brush to butter the pastries with his lower left hand, and covered half of the _Pardulas_ in sprinkles, leaving one without topping. He lifted the sugar bowl with his lower right, and used his upper right hand to grab some powdered sugar and dust it onto the other half of the _Pardulas_ , leaving another _Pardula_ without a topping. 

_“Lo darò al Saggio Folletto,”_

He smiled to himself and fixed his dress absentmindedly with one hand, the others going to work cleaning. ‘Special Occasion Sprinkles’ recorked, sifter and empty bowl thrown gracefully into the sink, and the bowl full of sugar covered in saran wrap from the right drawer, Angel deemed this clean enough and turned around. 

“ _Che lo renda Uo-_ ” the last line of the song was cut off by a squeak, as Angel finally noticed Alastor.

Angel dropped the plate of sweets, but quickly caught them with his lower hands before they could crash to the ground. Alastor perked up, remembering that he was an intruder to what appeared to be, by Angel Dust’s reaction, a private affair. Alastor quickly sprung into conversation, his smile widening from small and soft to sharp in an instant.

“Hel~lo, my friend! I come with news from Charlie!” He played it off with practiced charm.

“G-geez, can ya’ not sneak up on a guy, Smiles?” Angel Dust collected himself quickly, moving the plate to one hand and two onto his hip, “What’s the broad got for me, I’m busy.” 

“Oh, don’t be like that Angel! You are about to miss an important meeting with Charlie!” Alastor declared, loud as ever. Maybe a bit too loud. “Now, I’m sure she won't cross at you for being a few minutes late, but you’d better hurry!”

Angel blinked, before the realization of his lateness came over him. “Oh, shit! I do have to talk to the bitch!”

Alastor laughed as Angel set the tray onto the counter, hurrying off to apologize and probably make excuses at Charlie. His eyes drifted to the plate of confectionaries. He plucked one of the star-shaped easter desserts up, examining it with a keen eye. He opened his jaw and threw the thing in, chewing and then swallowing. Alastor’s tastebuds were filled with several tastes. Perfect Ricotta, sweet saffron, lemon and orange zest, powdered sugar and sweet _sweet_ honey. 

He hummed, trying to not give into the way the taste made him want to melt. Angel’s cooking certainly wasn’t something that would be easy to find fault with. Alastor was well aware that Angel’s cooking was delicious, seeing at the seldom meals he had cooked for the hotel, but this was something else entirely. Alastor wasn’t one for sweets but something about the pastries was too good to refuse, and he picked up another one and ate it slowly, savouring the tastes.

When he swallowed this _Pardula_ , he realized what was so familiar about Angel cooking.

It reminded him of his mother. 

His tail started wagging once more.

__________

Commissioned piece for this work 

<https://drive.google.com/file/d/1dyV-sBKnNXA1K0M5jMUI4_Y3S_DvPP-i/view?usp=drivesdk>


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